


Repayment

by cathrheas



Series: @cathrheas' Kinktober 2019 [6]
Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: F/F, Fade to Black, Flogging, Implied cunnilingus? Is that a thing, Whipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-06
Updated: 2019-10-06
Packaged: 2020-11-26 08:23:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20927120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cathrheas/pseuds/cathrheas
Summary: Shamir has a debt to pay, but it seems like it's never quite over.





	Repayment

**Author's Note:**

> (Day 6: Flogging)
> 
> This is so short my apologies I was working all day jfjdjdjdjd
> 
> Also there's sadist Rhea again. Sorry

It was only fair. Shamir, although never arrogant, knew that she was one of the strongest, one of the most loyal, one of the  _ best _ Knights of Seiros that Lady Rhea could have asked for. And yet, she was still repaying her debt to Rhea, and that debt came in the form of constant punishment. Whenever something went wrong, Shamir was the first one that Rhea scolded, the first one to get in trouble. Shamir was glad to please Rhea in any way that she could, but she hated the fact that Rhea always picked on her. Still, it wasn't like she could say no. Rhea had given her refuge and a job, and Shamir owed her, no matter how heinous the repayment was.

Shamir's back still ached from her last punishment. Rhea always put salve on her wounds after they finished, but it wasn't enough to completely numb the pain. It had only been two weeks; definitely not enough for Shamir to heal properly. She walked into the audience chamber with heavy feet, her heart already racing at the thought of Rhea's whip on her back. It was a mixed feeling. She was loyal to those who did her favors, and it pleased her to be that way, but Rhea...

She wasn't in the audience chamber. Of course, she never did it in the open, or else the Church would be seen as cruel. Shamir didn't particularly care about the Church's reputation, but she was glad it wasn't a public affair. She wouldn't be able to take the hit to her pride.

Shamir stepped into Rhea's office, and saw Rhea sitting at her desk, drafting a letter. "Rhea," Shamir greeted. "You were looking for me?"

"Yes. I have," Rhea said. She didn't look up from her paper. Shamir stood with her hand on her hip, waiting, not without impatience. When Rhea finally finished, she looked up, her face stern and angelic all at once. “I have been disappointed with your performance as of late, Shamir. The reports I received from the Knights’ previous mission were not very acceptable.”

As if. Routing bandits in the woods? How could a seasoned knight like Shamir louse up a simple mission like that? It was impossible. “Is that so,” Shamir said, quite blandly.

“Do you doubt me?”

“No.”

“Do you have anything more to say for yourself, then?”

“My apologies if you felt I was underperforming.”

Rhea frowned. Shamir had long ago realized that it didn’t matter how she replied, Rhea would always dole out a punishment. “It is not about my feelings. Remember, Shamir, that I have kept you here out of the kindness of my heart. If you continue to underperform, then I will have to regain my payment in other ways. You are quite familiar with this by now, are you not?” Shamir didn’t speak. “...Close the door, then. Remove your shirt.”

Inevitable. Shamir set down her quiver and bow, shutting the door to Rhea’s office. She walked back over to the desk, and Rhea stood. Rhea was a mere inch shorter than Shamir, but twice as imposing. Shamir removed her shoulder guard, then her jacket, and finally her shirt. Her bra was very plain; navy blue, practical, made for battle. Rhea still regarded it for a few long moments before reaching into her desk drawer.

She pulled out the whip.

It was white, an odd color in Shamir’s opinion. Somehow, Rhea had kept it clean from all of the blood Shamir had shed. “Step away,” Rhea commanded. She needed enough distance to rear back, so the whip would snap forward exactly where she wanted it to. Shamir turned her back to Rhea, took a couple of steps towards the door, then stopped in place when the whip cracked at the tile floor. She cringed.

“I’m guessing that means this is far enough,” she said.

That was a mistake. Rhea jumped right into it at that; the first lash went across Shamir’s back, from her right shoulder blade to her left hip. She hissed, arched her back, but that didn’t stop the second lash from coming, and the third, and the fourth. Shamir tried to remain standing; she always collapsed eventually, but she wanted to hold off. She didn't want Rhea to see her weakness.

"Such a waste of talent," Rhea spat. "And with a disobedient mouth, at that. It is becoming clearer and clearer to me that teaching you your place here will be a difficult task."

Shamir wrapped her arms around herself, cursing the tears she shed as the whip bit into her. Rhea gave her no time between each strike to recover. They came one after another, ruthless and unforgiving. Shamir could hear Rhea grunt with the force of each whip.

Then came the worst part; the short break Rhea took, a few seconds of reprieve, that became torture when Shamir realized how the pulsing wounds on her back turned her on. She wasn't often punished, or hurt at all. She didn't know what the sensation did to her until Rhea struck her that first time, until she was laying in her bed that night and having wet dreams about Rhea torturing her again.

"Apologize for your incompetence," Rhea said, after Shamir had (mostly) stopped shaking.

"I'm...I'm sorry," Shamir struggled to gasp.

The whip came down one last time, and Shamir came undone, squeezing her legs together as her slick flooded her panties. She fell to her knees and dug her nails into her thighs. Rhea's shoes click-clacked across the floor, walking over to Shamir's shriveled form with dignity. Shamir shut her eyes, listening to the sound of fabric shifting.

Rhea put her hand to Shamir's scalp, clutched her hair and pulled her head up. Shamir opened her eyes, drinking in the sight: Rhea, dripping wet, looking down at Shamir with disgust. "Show me how sorry you are."


End file.
